You hear a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers
have died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. Its not
influenza, but three of four people are dead, and its kind of interesting, and
they are sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don't think much
about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you hear another radio spot.
Only they say its not three villagers, its 30,000 villagers in the back hills of
this particular area of India, and it's on TV that night. CNN runs a little
blurb; people are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this
disease strain has never been seen before. By Monday morning when you get up,
its the lead story. For its not just India; its Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran and
before you know it, you're hearing this story everywhere and they have coined it
now as "the mystery flu." The President has made some comment that he
and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there.

But everyone is wondering, How are we going to contain it? That's when the
President of France makes an announcement that shocks Europe. He is closing
their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of the countries where
this thing has been seen. And that's why that night you are watching a little
bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is
translated from a French news program into English; There's a man lying in a
hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu.

It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can tell, once you get it

you have it for a week before you know it. Then you have four days of
unbelievable symptoms. And then you die. Britain closes its borders, but its too
late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton and its Tuesday morning when the
President of the United States makes the following announcement: "Due to a
national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been
canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back
until we find a cure for this thing." Within four days our nation has been
plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are talking about "What if it
comes to this country"?

And preachers on Tuesday are saying Its the scourge of God. Its Wednesday
night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody runs if from the
parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!" And while
the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone held up to it,
the announcement is made. Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying
from the mystery flu. Within hours it seems, this thing just sweeps across the
country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote.

It's as though it's just sweeping in from the borders. And then all of a
sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure can be found.

A vaccine can be made. Its going to take the blood of somebody who hasn't
been infected and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through all those
channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing: Go
to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That's all we ask of
you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way
quickly, quietly and safely, to the hospitals. Sure enough, when you and your
family get down there late on that Friday night, there is a long line and
they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood
and putting labels on it.

Your wife and your kids are out there, and they take your blood type and they
say, "wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name you can be
dismissed and go home." You stand around, scared, with your neighbors,
wondering what in the world is going on and if this is the end of the World.

Suddenly a young man comes running out of the hospital screaming.

He's yelling a name and waving a clipboard. What? He yells it again!

And your son tugs on your jacket and says," Daddy, that's me."
Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute. Hold
on!" And they say, Its okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure.

We want to make sure he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the
right type. Five tense minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses crying and
hugging one another - some are even laughing.

Its the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor
walks up to you and says, Thank you sir. Your son's blood type is perfect.

It's clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine. As the word begins to
spread all across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and
praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and
your wife aside and says, "May we see you for a moment? We didn't realize
that the donor would be a minor and we need.....we need you to sign a consent
form." You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood
to be taken is empty. "H-h-h-ow many pints?"

And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he says, "We had no
idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need it all!"

"But-but . . . . I don't understand. He's my only son!" "We
are talking about the world here.

Please sign. We . . . we need it all!" "But can't you give him a
transfusion?" "If we had clean blood we would. Please, will you please
sign?" In numb silence you do. Then they say, "would you like to have
a moment with him before we begin?" Could you walk back? Could you walk
back to that room where he sits on a table saying, "Daddy? Mommy?

What's going on?" Could you take his hands and say, "Son, your
mommy and I love you and we would never ever let anything happen to you that
didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?" And when that old doctor
comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've got to get started. People all
over the world are dying.", could you leave? Could you walk out while he is
saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why . . . why have you forsaken me?"

And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some
folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even bother to come because they
have better things to do, and some folks come with just a pretentious smile and
just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, "EXCUSE ME!

MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DON'T YOU EVEN CARE? DOES IT MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?"

I wonder, is that what God wants to say?

"MY SON DIED FOR YOU! DOES IT MEAN NOTHING? DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I
CARE?" Father, seeing it from your eyes should break our hearts.

Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. So
that's the gospel in a nutshell. Now you can either spread the gospel, or...